Gifts of Love

by Raine Cantrell

  “Lots,” Jake answered before his sister.

  Erin brushed his hair from his forehead, unable to stop herself from smiling again at the little boy. “I’m sure you’re right. I’ve never lived on a ranch, so I don’t know how things are done. Will you both tell me?”

  Erin wiped out a small pot and used it as a dipper to fill the wooden bucket Jake found for her from the slowly heating water. As Becky told her about the housekeepers they had over the years, Erin set the dirty dishes she had gathered up to soak in a pan in the sink. Giving Jake a damp cloth, she set him to wiping down the chairs, and wondered how a man like Mace lived like this. If he had hired women to keep house, he had apparently never asked one of them if they knew which end of a broom was up. All she could hope to accomplish today was to get rid of the flour. The kitchen, the only room of the house she had seen so far, needed a day of lye soap and boiling water to scrub it clean.

  “’Course she didn’t like milking the cow.”

  “Who, Becky?”

  “That was Miss Nolie. She didn’t much like the chickens, or slopping the hogs, either.”

  “Oh. Are they hard to do?”

  Erin missed the look Becky shared with her brother. She was staring at the window over the dry sink. It was covered with greasy grime inside and splatters of dirt on the outside so that a bare gray light filtered into the room.

  “Not so hard,” Becky finally answered, adding, “if you know what you’re about.

  Erin thought of admitting that she didn’t know what she was about when it came to milking, or slopping hogs, or whatever had to be done with chickens. But if she did, Becky was sure to tell her father, and Mace would have her packed and out of here before she had a chance to tell him that she would learn. No matter what it took, she would learn.

  Back to sweeping out another corner of the kitchen, she asked Becky about a smokehouse.

  “Sure we have one. And a well house near the spring.”

  Erin found herself smiling again to hear the pride in Becky’s voice. She didn’t know and wouldn’t ask when their mother died, but Erin had a feeling that not only had Mace loved his wife, they had both loved their children.

  “If there’s bacon or ham, Becky—”

  “Lots,” Jake said, scooping up the flour and dirt Erin swept into a pile.

  “That’s good. Becky, would you please choose one so we can start supper?”

  “Gosh, supper! Guess me and Jake really messed things up to forget about supper. We tried hard to make biscuits and the cake, but everything burned and we paid no mind to supper.”

  Erin stopped her sweeping to look at Becky. “It should not have been your responsibility to worry about it.”

  “But we made work for you—”

  “Yes, you both did, but you’re both helping me to clean it up. That’s all that matters, Becky.” Erin thought about the loaded wagon outside. She had no idea what Mace had bought, but surely there were foodstuffs. And the pantry…“We’ll make do, Becky. You’ll see. We’ll do just fine together.”

  When Mace returned, he found the kitchen empty. Clean, too. He turned to Ketch, who was still mumbling apologies and rubbing his swollen jaw. “Guess she turned tail and ran out.”

  “Sorry this happened.” Ketch winced as air hit the exposed nerve in his tooth. “Should’ve gone to town.”

  “See if you can find where they took themselves off to while I go change.”

  “Sure boss.”

  Mace stopped at the doorway to his bedroom. Erin’s valises were neatly piled in front of the bed. He swore at her daring to bring her things into his room, the room he had shared with Sky. Without giving himself time to think, he grabbed them up and strode down the hallway to the spare bedroom all the housekeepers had used. He set the valises on the bed so Erin would make no mistake about this being where she belonged.

  Returning to his bedroom, he removed his jacket and shirt, spotting a jar filled with dried evergreens. He smiled, thinking of Becky trying to make the room a little prettier, wanting to please. With a weary sigh he sat on the edge of the bed, wondering if he had done wrong by bringing Erin here.

  He had put his children at risk for a woman who stirred his blood with a need that wouldn’t quit. He didn’t want to admit it, not even silently to himself, but admit it he did. Sky had never caused this fierce craving to burn inside him.

  And Erin was his wife. She wouldn’t refuse him. She would…What was he thinking of? He didn’t want a woman whose belly was filled with another man’s child!

  Kicking off his boots, he stood to strip off his pants. The image of Erin’s face so close to Jake’s came to mind. He heard again his son’s longing that she be the new mommy. And he had to remember that Erin didn’t scream or shrink away when Jake touched her. She had briefly closed her eyes, as if savoring the acceptance his child offered.

  But if he were going to be truthful with himself, she had been furious when she first saw Becky and Jake. He had better keep in mind that she needed a home more than they needed her. If he remembered that, he wouldn’t let his thoughts stray from her motives.

  A worm of guilt wiggled its way into his thoughts. He had lied, just as Erin had. Lied by omission. The deed was done and they were all going to have to live with it.

  Hearing a murmur of voices from the kitchen, he hurried into his work clothes, afraid to leave her alone with the children for too long.

  Erin held a child at each side, and Ketch followed her into the kitchen carrying one large smoked ham. They fell silent seeing Mace in the doorway from the hall.

  Jake broke free from Erin’s hold and ran to his father. Swinging the boy up into his arms, Mace buried his face against his son’s small shoulder. Jake squirmed, pulling his head back so he could look at his father’s face. His smile went far to alleviate Mace’s misgivings.

  Holding his son easily with one hand, he used the other to tousle his hair. “Happy, little one?”

  Instead of answering, Jake turned to look at Erin and, to her joy, held out his arms to her. She started toward him when she saw Mace’s strange expression.

  “You come here, Jake,” she said, lifting up the sack of potatoes she had set by the door after Ketch showed her the root cellar. “If I put you up on a chair, you can scrub these.”

  “Bring me something?” Jake asked, drawing Becky’s instant attention.

  Eyes alight, Becky ran to her father. “Yes, please.”

  Wearing a teasing grin, Mace shook his head. “Don’t know that two young ’uns like you should be expecting anything.”

  “Candy!” called Jake, while Becky snuggled closer. “And peppermint sticks for me, Papa.”

  “Might be. We’ll see once the wagon’s unloaded.” Over the groans of the two of them, he added, “All right, there’s a surprise or two.”

  Erin listened, feeling a warmth toward Mace that grew when his whispers brought the children’s laughter. How lucky they were to know a parent’s unconditional love. From her brief acquaintance with Mace, she had expected that his temper would flair upon seeing the mess Becky and Jake made. But she had been wrong, as wrong as she had been about the man Ketch. A fool could see that Mace adored his children. Maybe there was hope for her, too.

  Setting his son down with a last tickle, Mace motioned to Ketch and left them.

  With Becky eagerly showing her where things were stored, Erin managed to get supper started. Nearly two hours later Ketch returned, lending Erin support and a feeling that she had an ally.

  “You’ll do, Mrs. Dalton,” he said with a decided twinkle in his eye, despite his painful tooth. “Do us all jus’ fine.”

  Chapter Nine

  Erin lingered over finishing the last of the kitchen chores. She had met Ray Heppner and Pete Malott, who everyone called Dishman because of his being chosen to wash dishes when they were between housekeepers. Their kind compliments went far to relieve the tension that Mace brought with him to supper. The talk was of ranch work, of Cosi Sawtell’s
hunting an elusive wolf that had attacked their calves, of several miners found camping out near one of the upper streambeds.

  She had listened, passed dishes when asked and said little about herself, nor did Mace volunteer to enlighten anyone. She had to place that in his favor, but for how long could he hide her secret?

  At least Ketch seemed to be resting comfortably tonight. She had found a small bottle of oil of cloves, which he had rubbed on his tooth, swearing he would go to town to see the dentist.

  The children, under Mace’s gentle insistence, had made do with a quick wash in their room, since it had been too late to heat another large kettle of water for baths in the wooden tub stored in the pantry. Erin thought of wishing them good-night while Mace went along to tuck them into bed. The sounds of their joined laughter once again reached her, making her feel lonely. Softly the sounds had stilled, but Mace never returned to the kitchen.

  Lowering the coal-oil fixture over the table, Erin blew out each of the lights before raising it again so no one would hit his head. She had delayed her own bedtime as long as she could. As she made her way from the kitchen into the hallway, she realized that she didn’t know which room was hers.

  The darkened hallway offered no clue. To her right was another hall, farther along one door. To her left were two. Perplexed, she stood undecided. She couldn’t very well begin opening doors to find the right one. Ketch slept in the house, and had, he let slip at supper, since Mace’s wife had died.

  Erin had no desire to wake anyone, but she was tired. She headed for the single door. The house was well made; no floorboards creaked beneath her weight. Standing before the closed door, she hesitated before calling herself a fool. Mace had not seen fit to inform her where she would be sleeping.

  A fine sheen of sweat broke out on Mace’s brow as he heard Erin stop before his door. He lay rigidly on his bed, annoyed that he held his breath for a moment, waiting for her to open it. The damn brazen…Well, Miss Erin Dunmore was in for a shock. He slept raw and made no apology for it.

  But he grew impatient as the door latch remained firmly in place. He sensed she was out there. Knew it with every taut muscle of his body. Curiosity forced him to sit up, cursing the creak of the rope spring in the bed.

  What was she up to? Mentally he prepared the blistering he would give her for daring to think they would share a bed. And if the blistering held the snap and sting of a whip due to his own sexual frustration, so much the better. Someone had to pay for what he was suffering. Who better than the woman who caused it?

  Raking an impatient hand through his hair, he swung his legs off the bed. Did the fool intend to stand out there all night? Or was she waiting for an invitation from him?

  Sidewinders could skate on a frozen pond first! He hadn’t been blind to the shy smiles she gave Pete and Ray. They fell over themselves telling her how good supper was, when Mace knew it wasn’t anything special. She’d opened a few cans, fried potatoes and onions and served ham heated in the peach syrup. Sure there had been plenty, he admitted, but it wasn’t filling for hungry men.

  A wrong thought to be having along about now, he warned himself, coming to his feet and padding silently to the door. The woman was going to drive him crazy. He could swear her scent came right through the thickness of the tongue-and-groove wood door. Had anyone told her where her room was? The question he asked himself surprised him. He couldn’t remember. He had tucked the children to sleep. Ketch went to bed nursing his tooth, and Erin had been in the kitchen and only the kitchen, from the moment she arrived.

  He wrenched open the door.

  “I—”

  “What—”

  They both began at the same time, but Erin moved away until her back was against the wall. In more ways than one, she thought. The moonlight streamed through the bedroom windows, allowing her to see that he wore nothing. A choked sound escaped her and she turned to flee. She couldn’t do it. She could not go into that room with him.

  Mace grabbed the back of her skirt, all he could, and pulled her up short. Hand over hand, in a moment he had her against his chest. “What were you doing prowling out here?”

  Bracing herself, Erin whispered, “I didn’t know where to sleep. I guessed this was your room and—”

  “You’re not sharing it,” he stated harshly against her ear. Mace knew he had made another mistake to add to the long list he was compiling. The air was filled with warm woman and it pierced him as he breathed it. “Damn you,” he muttered, releasing her skirt only to take her arm. “I’ll show you where. Far enough away from me.”

  Down the darkened hallway he strode, unmindful of his naked state, until at the end he threw open the door. “This is your room. Learn where it is so there’s no mistake. I don’t ever want to find you in my room again. You hear me?”

  “Yes, Mr. Dalton. I hear you and I’m sure that Ketch and the children do, too.”

  He let her go and glared down at her shadowed features. “Won’t matter, will it? They’ll all know soon enough the reason why.”

  Erin walked into the room and stood with her back to him. She wasn’t going to answer him. She was not going to allow him another victory over the hurt he dealt her.

  Mace followed her inside, finding his way to the dresser and quickly lighting the lamp. Replacing the chimney, he saw for himself that the room was bare of warmth. A straight chair, washstand, dresser, wardrobe and single bed furnished the room. He thought about saying something, anything, but merely took the valises from the bed and set them near the wardrobe before he left her.

  Erin waited a few moments before she closed the door and lit the fire already laid. Undressing quickly, she slipped into bed, fighting not to cry.

  The tiny corner of hope that she had fought to keep alive folded in upon itself. The die was well and truly cast, and if it were to be changed, it would fall to her. She vowed then that nothing Mace Dalton did would surprise her. If she was prepared for rejection, it wouldn’t hurt again.

  Tiptoeing down the hall long before dawn, Erin lit the lamps in the kitchen. A few embers remained in the stove, enough so that kindling caught and soon spread heat into the large room. Praying that the pump wouldn’t give her trouble, she filled the coffeepot and took stock of the pantry for breakfast.

  In one earthenware jar she found sourdough starter, in others were barley, wheat and cornmeal. The sacks of flour and potatoes that Mace had bought in town were all neatly stacked on one side, and above them were jars of pickled corn relish, jellies, carrots and green beans. On top were stored dried beans and peas, along with jarred tomatoes.

  Bread was the first priority. There were a few eggs left from the gathering yesterday and Erin used these to make pancake mix. She found the griddle, which fit over two of the burners, and thought of having bacon, but she was leery of going out in the dark to the smokehouse. She would need to decide on her meal plans the day before, either set her bread to rise at night or bake enough to have some left for the morning meal. She rushed, listening intently to see if anyone was awake, but it wasn’t until she placed two loaf pans in the oven that she heard someone coming down the hall.

  A sleepy-eyed Becky yawned her way into the kitchen sniffing and smiling when she realized bread was baking.

  “Did I wake you, Becky?” Erin asked, anxious to know.

  “I didn’t want to sleep anymore. Can I help?”

  Erin nodded, deciding she wouldn’t say anything about Becky wearing the same soiled dress as yesterday. The child’s hair was again untidily braided, so much so that Erin fairly itched to take a brush to it. Patience, she warned herself, taking up the basket.

  “Could you show me where the henhouse is, Becky?”

  “Oh, I’ll gather eggs. I don’t mind them. Guess Papa told you he always has eggs for breakfast.”

  “No, no, he didn’t get around to mentioning it. How many will we need?”

  Becky finished struggling into a coat that was too big for her. “Let’s see…Papa has four, Ketch som
etimes three, Jake eats one. I don’t much like eggs. Dishman and Ray usually have three each. That’s fourteen, not counting you. But don’t worry, we have two dozen laying hens so there’ll be plenty left for your egg money.”

  “My egg money?” Erin asked, moving the coffeepot to a back burner to keep it hot.

  “You can sell the leftover eggs and keep the money. Mrs. McKenize told Papa she wouldn’t feed the hens unless she got to keep the egg money.”

  “Mrs. McKenize was one of the—”

  “Housekeepers,” Becky finished for her and left.

  A door opened and closed down the hall and Erin smoothed down her apron, but it was Ketch who came into the kitchen. His jaw was swollen and he held it cradled with one hand. Erin smiled at him, liking the warmth of his blue eyes and his face, which bore the webs and lines of a man who spent his years out in the open. His gray hair was neatly combed, but he had forgone shaving.

  Erin fetched him a cup of coffee, setting it down at his place along with the bowl of sugar.

  “You remembered,” he mumbled.

  “That you like your coffee hot and very sweet, Ketch? It won’t take me long to know everyone’s likes and dislikes if they tell me.”

  “Boss’s, too?”

  Erin cringed inwardly, but her voice betrayed nothing. “His likes and dislikes are the ones I’ll learn first and the fastest.” She busied herself checking the bread, then the heat of the griddle. Dribbling a few drops of cold water on the cast iron surface, she was satisfied to see them bounce and steam.

  She debated with herself, knowing that it pained Ketch to talk, but needing information. “Becky is certainly a bright child. I was surprised when she said at supper that she’s never been to school. Did the other housekeepers teach her and Jake?”

  “Not the way you’d be meanin’. Miss Nolie set a store by her books. Weren’t fit reading for a child, though, if you’d be knowin’ what she liked.”